Floors
by noisystar
Summary: Set during "The Convention"; a light tale in which Jim turns to Dwight to get his mind off of Pam. powdered with Jim/Dwight


This takes place during the episode "The Convention." A couple of events are reworked just a little to bring about this story's circumstance. I just wanted to get this out; it's very simple, (I'm working on getting back into the swing of writing) but the world needs something other than Jim/Pam, please! (They're great in the show, but can't we have a _little_ more variety in our fanfiction?) This may or may not be continued.

* * *

There was something about his desk-mate that simply caught his eye. Maybe it was the giant thrift store eyeglasses, or the hurricane Katrina haircut, or the low, glaring brow. Either way, Jim knew from the very first time he saw Dwight that growing up with pranksters for older brothers _was _worth something. When Jim left Scranton, he no longer had that desk-mate; he was away from Pam and his limited future.

Seeing Dwight and Michael for the first time after moving to Stamford at the paper distributors' convention was like riding in an elevator that seemed like it would only go up. It was too easy for Jim to revert back to his old ways--every word that came out of Michael's mouth was agonizing like a Tom and Jerry cartoon, and everything Dwight did was something to poke and prod and smile at.

When Jim heard Michael's conversation on the phone with Pam, the elevator was suddenly plummeting, and it made him wonder how many more floors there could possibly be. He then glanced at Dwight, who was the only familiar elation within this elevator world of Jim's that kept dragging itself deeper and deeper into crushing water.

He was not going to drown himself anymore than he already was. Thinking about anything meant driving his heart through his stomach. It was a little easier to keep his heart at bay when he finally had Dwight's hotel key in his hand.

The cameras followed Jim eagerly down the hallway. His brown, dead-cat hair bobbed up and down on his head as he strode towards Dwight's room quickly. He swiped the key through the scanner, and voila--Dwight's door was open and his room was free game. Jim turned to meet the cameras with an unusually meek smile. "He's not home," he whispered, then asked the camera man to close the door behind him. Jim gazed around the place before setting to work.

* * *

Jim had asked the camera guy to keep an eye out and alert him if he saw Dwight; apparently, the guy had decided to take a bathroom break. The first warning Jim had was an ear-splitting "_DAMMIT, JIM!"_

Forced to turn from his incomplete handiwork, Jim jumped up from the floor and spun around to come nose-to-nose with his favorite salesman. "Oh, hello, Dwight. Hey, what are you doing here..? Isn't there a party or something?"

Of course, Dwight's immediate reaction was to address Jim's question rather than the paper cups of water that span the entire floor (except for the entrance, which was just what Jim was working on when Dwight made his untimely intrusion). "I have _other plans now_," Dwight sneered matter-of-factly.

"Gosh, does Michael know?" Jim speculated with pleasant mock-concern.

"No, he does not. Now get out of my room, Jim, you're contaminating the air!"

"Contaminating the air..?" Jim repeated in soft wonderment. "How exactly does one 'contaminate the air'? Hm..."

"When you breathe it, it--Just... go look it up!" Dwight insisted before grabbing Jim by his shoulders and attempting to force him out.

"Darn, I don't think I have time for that." Jim sighed his misfortune while obtaining the characteristics of a Jim-sized rock and not moving. "Can you just explain it to me now?"

"I am expecting _company, Jim!_"

"Oh? What kind?"

"The kind you never have." At this point, Dwight had lifted himself into Jim's face. His tiny nostrils were flared in the way that made him look like he'd blend right in with the pigs he probably owned, his mouth was stretched white thin, and his glasses could easily slide off his nose and onto Jim's.

It was surprising to Jim that Dwight would even expect such a thing as company in a hotel room, assuming the unlikely event that Dwight wasn't lying just to get him out of there. This last statement probably would not have effected Jim at all if it had not been for Pam. He was still way below sea level; he groped for relief and replied in some odd fantasy of desperation, "I don't hate you, Dwight."

"That's nice. _Go._" Dwight snarled without pulling away; it was probably some supposed bear-confrontation tactic.

Jim's eyes fell down and then climbed halfway up. His breath hesitated, but he continued feeling around through murk, "I mean, I don't want you to hate me. ...Do you?"

Dwight's eyebrows rose above the metal brow of his glasses. "Of course I hate you, _Jim_. You're disgusting and..." Jim stared at Dwight and he felt his eyes plead; Dwight's eyes just seemed to say "oh, God" in the way he might address someone else taking his position as Assistant to the Regional Manager. "and..." Dwight narrowed his eyes and said quickly, "what are you doing?"

There was some heavy pulse lodged in Jim's throat. "I'm kind of feeling out of it, Dwight." He was leaning towards Dwight now and his satiated warmth. "I... didn't realize how much I'd miss you." Even as he said it, Jim felt it like cottage cheese seeping into his ears, but at this point he wouldn't stop it.

Dwight hesitated. "What are you? _Gay?"_

Jim laughed, because he was pathetic. "I don't know." He felt that same sideways smile he would feel with Pam, and he kind of knew the real answer. It was apparently not what Dwight was expecting, who backed towards the opposite wall and puzzled over Jim with those eyes, those annoying, asking-for-it eyes that Jim really, really liked.

"Jim..." he warned.

Jim stared at the floor, at the inches of space between his feet and Dwight's. "Uhh... yeah..." Jim breathed. Awkward. He looked up at Dwight's stunned face; it was too familiar, and Jim grinned. "Have fun." He slapped Dwight's shoulder and left him with his cups of water. Then he came back through the door, grabbed Dwight and kissed his shaking lips. Dwight gaped like a fish, as red-faced as he was when he had found his desk supplies in Jell-O. Jim smiled victoriously just as he had then, and ran out of the room before Dwight came out of his paralysis and stampeded through the hallway.

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Any and all kinds of critique/reviews are welcome and appreciated!


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